The Two Lady Granthams
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: After the disastrous birth of her third daughter Cora finds it difficult to carry on and there's only one person who can talk her out of the rut.


****A/N: I can't believe I wrote this so long ago and never published it. I'm so lame. I own nothing.

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><p><strong>The Two Lady Grantham's<strong>

_1896_

Violet sighed as she watched Robert shuffled dejectedly away from his wife's bedchamber. Good grief, where on _earth _had his backbone gone? He was born of the most inherently stubborn man Violet had ever known in all her life: _surely_ her son must have inherited some of his Father's forthrightness? Goodness only _knew_ what of her he had in him; she was yet to see it. Rosamund was difficult enough that Violet recognised herself as a younger woman, but Robert was neither her nor his Father. How was he supposed to be Lord Grantham if he ran away from his wife?

It had been a bad experience, she would grant him that, but Cora was alive and healthy and the baby was screaming away – what on earth was the problem now? Rosamund had said, well _sniffled_ the silly girl, something about the Doctor not recommending any more children but really…how could a Doctor know more than a woman who had given birth herself? In a few years, when Cora was feeling up to it again, they would try again and finally have a son. Four girls in a row would just be ridiculous. Honestly, if they weren't careful they were in danger of becoming a family out of a novel, improbably overrun with girls and no son for the family seat. There would be another Crawley Earl yet. But for now, she should see to Cora.

She knocked on the door considerately until Miss Finneran appeared at the door, looking as bleak and irritated at being interrupted in her work as she always did. Violet didn't begrudge her a work ethic, but she did think a kinder maid would probably do Cora the world of good generally. One needed to have a good maid after all.

"Let me in Finneran, I wish to see Lady Grantham."

Grudgingly the woman took a step aside to allow Violet to sweep past her. Violet did a double take when she didn't immediately leave and locked her eyes upon the insolent woman.

"Alone if that's quite alright with you?"

Not foolish enough to remain when she had been given a direct order Finneran immediately inclined her head and left the room. Violet made a noise of impatient annoyance as the door closed behind her and turned to Cora who, contrary to what she had been told by Rosamund and Robert, hardly looked like she had been sobbing at death's door for the last week. In fact Cora was sat up in bed, the covers arranged quite neatly around her skinny frame and arching her eyebrow at Violet, the ghost of a smile dancing around her lips, over the older woman's treatment of Finneran.

"She's just doing her job."

"My dear, she needn't do it for my benefit."

Violet took the opportunity to cast her eye properly over Cora. She was still pale and on closer inspection she looked skinnier than usual, but then again Violet had always put her sleightness down to her heritage. Americans knew nothing about breeding strong country-worthy girls after all. They were all designed like dolls and not nearly robust enough to do the duty that was expected of a titled English lady. At least Cora had been rich she supposed.

"She just wants to look after me."

Cora lay back against the mountain of pillows propping her up and wondered why she was even bothering to defend Finneran when she herself didn't really like the woman all that much. She was too cold, much too sterile and though highly competent, wasn't a woman who inspired confidences. Her decision not to bother anymore came a little too late as Violet raised her hand to prevent her from speaking and took a seat on the side of Cora's bed. It was a familiar gesture by now and entirely on instinct, Cora fell quiet and waited for her mother-in-law to speak.

"I am not here to discuss the merits of your maid, however short the conversation would inevitably be, but I came to see how you were for myself."

Cora raised her eyebrow again and Violet glared at her silently until she desisted and lowered it immediately with a sheepish look. Honestly, she might be Lady Grantham now but if she thought she was ever going to get away with insolence like that as long as Violet breathed air then she was _sorely_ mistaken. She reached out a hand to lift Cora's cheek back up, checking how bright her eyes were.

"Well, you still look like a rabbit caught in the huntsman's sights-"

"I beg your pardon!"

"Oh don't be absurd," Cora thought Violet was the only person in the world who could call somebody absurd for jumping to their own defence. "You had that exact same look when I first met you."

"That's because I'd just met _your_ daughter."

Violet bristled slightly and closed her eyes in faint despair, taking a deep breath to control her sudden irritation. It was well-known, to everyone who was not Cora apparently, that she was _quite_ aware of what her daughter got up to in London thank you very much. She just preferred not to hear the details and the image that was conjured up by Cora's words was not one a Mother cared to dwell on altogether too much.

When she opened her eyes Cora looked duly chastised and her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. Well, Violet thought with an internal sigh, she was clearly healthy enough to do that so she didn't seem ready to drop at any moment. In fact for a woman who really had been rather ill only two weeks ago she looked remarkably robust, if a little sad around her eyes. But there was nothing to be done for that other than to give her time. Violet knew only too well how traumatic a birth could be at the best of times. Robert had been easy enough but Rosamund had been an utter nightmare primarily, Violet knew with a burst of knowing how she sometimes treated her daughter, because Rosamund had been second and her loud and powerful cries could not distract her from the fact her firstborn was already dead. But Sybil was most definitely _not_ dead and Robert had been proudly showing her off and Violet had begun to concoct a theory that she knew neither of her own children could possibly understand.

"My dear…if you are feeling like you don't belong in her life because of any…" She raised her eyebrows at Cora. "Implorations…you may have made midway through the birth," the younger Lady Grantham's open-mouthed shock let Violet know that she had, as usual, been quite right. "Then I am telling you now to stop being so silly."

"But I thought it!"

"You didn't _mean _it though."

"I did! In that moment I did! And I don't know _how_ you know- I suppose you must have looked in your crystal ball –" Violet chose to ignore this. "But I _did _mean it!"

"Are you quite finished?"

"Yes," Cora sulked before regathering her ire and looking up. "How on earth do you know what I thought when I was giving birth?"

Violet smiled and took her hand, patting it gently.

"You forget my dear, I have been through it myself."

"It doesn't mean you know how _I _feel!"

She tried to wriggle her hand away but was unsuccessful. Violet's grip was too hard.

"I'm sorry to have to disappoint whatever part of you is putting on this thoroughly childish display Cora but I can assure you, I _do_ know. Because you are not the first woman in the world to have a bad birth my dear, but you should take comfort from the fact both you _and_ the child are alive and well."

Cora stared at her with utter confusion for a moment before it slowly dawned. Violet almost rolled her eyes again – sometimes Americans really were so slow. The younger woman looked down sadly and all but whispered.

"Robert never said."

"Robert doesn't really know much. And he certainly never knew about the birth. It was years before he was born."

"Was he…she?"

"He. Richard."

"Was Richard older or younger than Rosamund?"

The implication hit Cora full force and suddenly the relationship between Violet and Rosamund made a great deal more sense. She didn't require an answer from Violet, she already knew.

"Older. By mere moments."

Cora frowned and Violet wondered if there was something in the water in New York that made their brains more placid.

"They were twins?"

Violet nodded shortly.

"Oh poor …" Violet eyes looked at her warningly and Cora changed tact. "Rosamund. Always being without her twin."

"She's coped perfectly well I think you'll find."

Cora didn't argue and smiled tentatively.

"So you know the thing I thought because…"

"Because I offered up my life to anyone who would listen if they would save my child too?"

Cora felt her eyes brim with tears once more and nodded.

"Yes. Yes," she spoke quieter than Cora had ever heard her. "That is how I knew my dear."

Cora bit her lip to keep her emotions in check. She knew how Violet hated shows of affection and this one went deeper than kissing her cheek at Christmas or the occasion she invited her to a Thanksgiving she masqueraded as a rather large November brunch three years ago and Violet had accepted and not complained once and Cora had wanted to hug her.

"But then you don't you understand? It feels _wrong_ somehow. I offered my life for hers and she lived and I'm still here and," the tears fell, she couldn't help it. "Violet I shouldn't be. What if me living means that her days are numbered?"

"Cora-"

"And then I hold her and love her so much and she still dies because I'm here and oh god…if I loved her _half_ as much as I do Mary or Edith then it would _kill _ me Violet."

"Cora-"

"And if I'm going to die of grief anyway I might as well die now so she can live and then she won't ever have to know how hard it is not to have a Mother will she?"

"Cora!"

She fell silent finally, but not due to the order, rather because she couldn't control the emotions bubbling in her anymore and sobs were racking her body. Without thinking that she might be pushed away Cora let her head fall forwards until it was on Violet's shoulder and she cried uncontrollable, as she could cry around nobody else, great heaves of emotion pouring from her until the last thing she had expected to happed did and Violet wrapped her arms around her.

"Oh my poor dear girl."

"Violet….what do I do?"

"First of all you pull yourself together for those girls. They are far too small to be without a Mother, especially since you insisted upon looking after them yourself and not letting the nursemaid get on with her job. Sybil Crawley is alive and well and terribly noisy – something Robert seems to think is endearing - and she needs you more now than she ever will again."

Somehow, and Cora would never utter this to a soul, it was better than Rosamund. Violet was just as soft and warm as her daughter, the same hands stroking her hair and almost the same voice cooing at her, but she knew that Violet's heart understood things that Rosamund's never would. She knew Violet could almost feel every tremor with her because now she knew that Violet had suffered more and the older Lady Grantham was right. Sybil was _alive_.

She clung to the older woman desperately, glad and oddly unsurprised that she was being allowed to sob at her own pace with a gentle hand stroking her hair. She supposed Rosamund must have gotten her soft side from somewhere. The late Lord Grantham had hardly been warm, even when presented with his first Grandchild.

"I'll try to be a good Mother, I promise."

Violet chuckled slightly and finally disentangled herself from the long thin limbs of her daughter-in-law, making a slightly embarrasses gesture with her hands that told Cora in no uncertain terms that the hugging was done with.

"My dear," she smiled at her in the warm way Cora had always seen her do to the girls and Robert, and even on occasion Robert. It was a look Rosamund had seldom received and something Cora had coveted for a long time. "Your ability as a Mother was never in any shadow of a doubt."

Violet stood up and brushed down her dress and Cora felt as though a great knot inside her had been slashed open. It would take a few days for her to recover from _this_ but beyond that she knew she would be fine. Sybil was screaming for her and Cora would go to her and love her as much as she possibly could. And …god almighty, Mary was already _four_. The days of her childhood, before she became a young woman and needed coaching for the seasons were depleting every single day and Cora didn't want to miss out on a day of her life. Mary, who had been her easiest birth, her pride and joy, the little girl who looked just like her but with her Father's eyes.

She knew she had to get better and after she had resolved to do so she looked up at Violet and saw the same smug, knowing look that her daughter specialised in. Cora smiled.

"Thank you…can I call you Mama yet?"

Violet chortled as she moved across the bedroom heading decisively for the door.

"Oh my dear, I promise you, when you have a son, I shall consider _that _a bit more seriously."

She swept out of the room and Cora fell back onto her pillows back again, smiling from ear to ear and suddenly very excited about hearing a new voice call HER Mama.

End.

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><p>Reviews are very much appreciated :)<p> 


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